


Sarabande

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't many things that Eames hates about being a forger. He's good at it, which means that if the person he's wearing is good at something, so is he. But of course, he isn't perfect, and he does actually have to learn to do those things so he doesn't ruin a job because of something ridiculous, like forgetting that the mark's wife isn't exactly fluent in English or not knowing how to do a proper salsa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarabande

**Author's Note:**

> Music Meme; Sarabande - Handel

There aren't many things that Eames hates about being a forger. He's good at it, which means that if the person he's wearing is good at something, so is he. But of course, he isn't perfect, and he does actually have to _learn_ to do those things so he doesn't ruin a job because of something ridiculous, like forgetting that the mark's wife isn't exactly fluent in English or not knowing how to do a proper salsa.  
  
What Eames does hate, is being bad at something. And he is, as a matter of fact, absolutely _dreadful_ when it comes to dancing.  
  
He also hates forging Mr. Darcy.  
  
And then of course, when the two are combined...  
  
"I cannot believe you don't know how to dance," Arthur says, and when he touches Eames, it is purely professional. They're alone in the workshop, save a giggling Ariadne who is working on her mazes in the corner. And well, Eames can mostly tune her out.  
  
A quarter turn and Arthur is moving away from him again and really, this is insane- "This isn't _dancing_ Arthur, this is bloody ridiculous-"  
  
"It's called The Bishop, Mr. Eames, and I'll have you know it was rather popular in the 1700s, named after it's creator-"  
  
"Darling, I am terribly sorry if I've given you some kind of impression that I actually _care_ what the damned dance is called or who it was named after or why it's so ridiculous, because really. I don't." He pauses, stumbles over nothing and nearly misses Arthur. "How do we even know the mark is going to know how to dance?"  
  
The next brush by, Arthur's hand lingers a bit on his before they turn away again. "Because, Eames, she and her husband have been taking lessons for thirty years."  
  
Another turn and he's smiling a bit, less the condescending smirk this time and more of an _actual_ Arthur smile, dimples starting to show. "So you'd better get it right."  
  
Eames frowns at him, and because these things just _do not_ like to work in his favor he absolutely butchers the next few steps. Arthur's smiling at him still when he stops cursing, one hand outstretched. "Again," he says.  
  
Eames takes his hand.


End file.
